


Like That

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: Grinding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP.  First-time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like That

The problem is, Kurt is clueless. 

He means--well, okay, clueless is a harsh word, it's--really, he is just kind of innocent, at first, like the fact that making out has, you know, results, doesn't occur to him until they are already in the middle of it, and then it's all flailing and heavy breathing and oh, Blaine, waitwaitwait, and Blaine is truly okay with that--more than okay, because he is kind of terrified of sex, mostly of messing it up with Kurt because Kurt is, oh, Kurt is--

But then months and months go by and then they have a huge fight about it and then they decide that they are ready, so ready, and then Kurt kind of wears six extra layers of clothing and they clearly are not ready, so very not ready that it is not funny.

Which would not be a problem if Blaine could switch himself back to standby mode, but the problem is that he really mostly can't, he had thought they were going to and now they, well, aren't--and Kurt really doesn't get it, how amazingly hot he is, how it's almost hard to look at him that is how beautiful and edible and--all that--he is, and when they are doing things he is all firm wrists and sneaky knees and these little breathy high-pitched noises that make Blaine's brain die a little--okay, a lot--with fizzing and possible temporary blindness in one eye.

Kurt is clearly, instinctively aggressive despite his musical theater romance sensibilities, and Blaine wonders what will happen when he realizes that his boyfriend is two parts pleasepleaseyes to every one part of--whatever the opposite of begging for it is, he really can't put it into words. 

Kurt ruins him with a glance, makes his whole body quiver with a brush of his fingertips and most of the time he obviously, truly does not get it.

After a while, even making out reaches a predictable, unsatisfying rhythm, where they lie a certain way and their legs are a certain way because they can't--oh, nonono--you know, and it's slow and lovely and Blaine really, really honestly is crazy about Kurt, but he can't move because if he does he is going to just--in his pants, and that is not the way he wants this to go. He imagines horrible scenarios where he makes that awful embarrassing orgasm noise and it falls into silence and Kurt looks at him like he is a very strange and unfathomable bug thing, all squashy and damp and thirteen years old.

So they make out, and he waits for the inevitable; Kurt laughing, tossing his eyes, cheeks and neck flushed pink, saying, "Need to cool off," sliding off of Blaine's side.

"Sure, actually--bathroom, one second," and he kisses Kurt, and hops to the bathroom where he closes the door and leans on it and exhales and presses a hand between his legs. He doesn't jerk off because he doesn't want to, he really wants the next time to be with Kurt, and Kurt's fingers, and Kurt's legs.

Rinse, repeat.

Kurt is like, stupidly long on top of Blaine, like he is acres of person, and all of the dancing has turned whatever he's got to muscle, and Blaine doesn't even think he realizes it when he pins Blaine's wrists above his head and shifts where he's straddling Blaine's waist and Blaine is craning somewhat uncomfortably to meet his mouth which is wet and quick and--ohdeargodwaitwait--at his jaw, his pulse fluttering wildly at his neck, and Kurt's sucking the skin there, and twisting the skin around Blaine's wrists, and then their fingers kind of mesh together and Kurt kind of moves his hips--

"Wait," Blaine blurts, voice breaking as Kurt's tongue slides behind his ear.

"Sorrysorry, did I...?"

"No," he pants, and is shaking, because Kurt holding him down and just going to town is the best thing ever, according to his body. He never wants to leave this position if at all possible. "N-no I just--this is--a lot, and--"

"I did. I did, oh, god, I am sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize, don't, I am--do you have any idea how good at this you are, I mean, any idea at all, Kurt, you are really--"

"Oh," Kurt says, "I--sometimes I forget, with all the spit and the sweat and the--I mean my germs must be everywhere on you."

Blaine blinks up at him. "Please tell me that that is not all you are thinking about when we do this."

"No!" Kurt replies, mortified, "Nonono I just, well, I'm doing...I'm trying to just kind of let it happen but sometimes the only way to...calm down is to think of the germs."

"I see." He licks his lips, thinking of germs, and says, very nervously, "Or we could not calm down?"

Their eyes meet. Kurt's face goes kind of squiggly and even pinker and he asks, softly, everything he feels in his voice, "Blaine?"

Blaine wraps one of his legs around Kurt's hip--his hips, he means, honestly, he could and would die for those hips, their sharp curves and their skin as soft as silk and, god, Kurt's hips, tapering so subtly into his, oh, god, do not think of that right now--and it feels good, it feels right, even asking feels right, if he could just take his mind off of the fact that they are all tangled and Kurt is between his legs and on top of him and he thinks that if he breathes the wrong way he may come in his underwear. 

"We could keep going?" he asks.

Kurt's eyes flicker over his face and then they are very close, and Kurt kisses him, and there is tongue, hesitant and brief between his lips, and his leg just sort of goes around Kurt's waist, and Kurt presses their laced fingers down into the bed and Blaine's pelvis just comes up, and he makes this noise like dying only awesome, and Kurt breathes across his mouth, "Ohgod."

It turns out that spreading his legs and letting Kurt down against him is the best decision he's made all week. His head goes all funny as their bellies and thighs touch, and oh dear god he is hard and Kurt can feel it, he knows it, right there against him, and their eyes meet again and he can feel his face on fire and he must look so, so remarkably stupid right now, like constipated or something, but Kurt is very much not looking at him as if that were the case, so, so maybe--

Kurt rocks against him, one hand still on his wrists and the other in his hair, twistingtwistingyesplease, and he whimpers, twitching and his--he is so hard, he can feel it everywhere, his shirt has ridden up and his boxers down, and oh--oh, the head of his cock is just peeking outside the waistband, visible against the hair on his stomach, and Kurt can't even know that he's rubbing against it, he mustn't, because if he did--

"Kurt," he whines. "We--we don't have to--could we just, move, or, could you?"

"Um, put your," and Kurt sits up, and his hands jesus christ his hands slide down Blaine's waist and hips and shift his thighs and this is so--being spread open like that, it's so much, and Blaine closes his eyes and squirms, desperate, and Kurt is so hot, so hot and their--they are pressed together, Blaine can feel Kurt's cock through his underwear, which has happened before but now, now, oh-- "Like that?" Kurt whispers, and fuck it is the hottest thing ever, as he rocks them together, grinding their cocks between cloth and skin and the noises, god the noises Kurt makes, little ones between his teeth like Blaine makes him want to fall apart, it is so good.

"Come--come here." Kurt lies down on top of him and he slides his one free hand into Kurt's hair and Kurt shifts his other hand like a question and Blaine says, "N-no, no, leave it, I like it, I like--that," and Kurt inhales sharply, you do?, ohoh--and Blaine's stomach twists and they are rocking together, and he can feel the hard line of Kurt's cock through two layers of cloth like a brand. He spreads wider, moremoreopen and he's throbbing, from the oversensitive tip of his cock to his tight balls and--and below, clenching and dry and hot like they might, they could do it all, they could do this for real, Kurt's cock--in him and--

He gasps, twisting Kurt's hair between his fingers, digging his heels into Kurt's thighs and sinking his teeth into Kurt's shoulder as he comes, thinking about it, thinking about Kurt inside him, deep and fucking him open, and he spurts between them, making rather insane noises as it all just, oh god everywhere, wetwet, messy as Kurt squeezes his wrist down so hard that it hurts and it coaxes one last desperate spurt out of him.

"Blaine," Kurt gasps, arms and legs and heat and his body, god, his long lanky fucking body, and Blaine can feel the head of Kurt's cock jutting out of the waistband of his boxers and it's twitching, pulsing, so fucking soft, and Blaine reaches down and presses Kurt's lower back, fingertips--nails--crawling, scratching, disturbing sweat--

"'S'okay, you can--Kurt--" He kisses Kurt, sliding his hand up and under Kurt's shirt, god, his skin, he is blazing hot and his spine, his endless spine and his shoulders, fucking hell how has Blaine never noticed his shoulders?

He loves the way it feels, Kurt rubbing off on his belly, the sticky soft skin over hard, hard catching his hairs, pressing his navel, and when Kurt comes--with a squeaking whimper and a hard thrust, he loves the way it feels when Kurt's come jolts along his stomach and chest.

Kurt laughs, and pants, and presses his face to Blaine's shoulder. "Oh, god, that--this is--so undignified, Blaine. Blaine."

And he thinks that they'll have to do this many, many times before Kurt really gets it.


End file.
